Perfect Preparation Means Bugger All
Ah, the joy of organising cricket matches. Two years ago, the groundsman rang me up to tell me the ground had lost its drinks licence a week before my 40th birthday game - no problem. This week? I get a phone call to tell me that the caterers have been involved in a car crash at the weekend and have baled out, five days before the match. In the circumstances it would be churlish, nay, somewhat unfeeling, to criticise them for lying around the John Radcliffe instead of cooking my food on Saturday just because the chef has a broken leg. Instead I have, surprisingly easily, found an alternative caterer at short notice, and one who clearly didn't detect the notes of panic in the enquiry, and quote us double the usual rate.
There are times when I wonder why I bother laying my plans a year in advance, as it seems that as long as you have the nerve, you can leave it all till literally a week before the event and save yourself all the work and worry.
Grrr.
Though I hope the person with the broken leg feels better soon. Which I must admit I didn't on Monday morning.
There are times when I wonder why I bother laying my plans a year in advance, as it seems that as long as you have the nerve, you can leave it all till literally a week before the event and save yourself all the work and worry.
Grrr.
Though I hope the person with the broken leg feels better soon. Which I must admit I didn't on Monday morning.